


Merlin's place

by Judin



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur makes it better, Bath Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Merlin feels unappreciated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 14:03:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1431190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judin/pseuds/Judin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A jealous Merlin makes a scene in the courtyard. Has Arthur given up on him, or is the King more perceptive than Merlin gives him credit for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merlin's place

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Brighter When We Come](https://archiveofourown.org/works/626133) by [teprometo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teprometo/pseuds/teprometo). 
  * Inspired by [Night Sky Changing Overhead (the Brighter When We Come Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/716209) by [roughandtumble (flammablehat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammablehat/pseuds/roughandtumble). 



> There are plenty of bath-fics in this fandom, but never enough for me. The bath scene in this story is quite similar to, and partially inspired by Teprometo's "Brighter when we come" and its remix by Roughandtumble.
> 
> This story was first written and published in two parts to the Camelot_Drabble community on livejournal.

In the fourth year of his reign, Arthur invites the rulers of the five kingdoms to Camelot to renew their alliance. Some kings have gone, others come to, and many things great and small have befallen Albion since the last time they gathered, so it is an important occasion.

Preparing to receive three Kings and a Queen is no simple job, and so June turns into an extremely busy month in Camelot. Especially for Merlin. Although Alined is no longer around, Merlin is constantly on guard for trouble, knowing as he does that Morgana is lurking somewhere out there in the wild, and that so much royalty gathered in one place makes for a rather irresistible target. On top of that there is the internal power-struggle between the rulers themselves. With potential threats both outside and inside the castle, Merlin really ought to be glad that Arthur has brought George in to help Merlin with his chores.

Merlin is not happy that Arthur has brought George in to help Merlin with his chores, and worst of all, he can't blame it on George. No, George is the perfect manservant, and just because he is a bit pompous does not mean Merlin can take his own feelings of jealousy out on him. So when Arthur slaps Merlin over the back of the head and tells him to at least try to emulate George, all Merlin can do is bury his hurt and nod, and bend down to pick up the armour he has dropped all over the floor. He is practically asleep on his feet after being up all night keeping Arthur safe, but Arthur doesn't know that and can never know that. Arthur thinks Merlin spent last night in the tavern.

Merlin's emotions overwhelm him three days into the royal visit.

Arthur sighs and rubs a hand over his eyes. "You had one simple task, Merlin! Just the one! Bring my gloves from my chambers, that was all I asked of you. George has prepared everything else to perfection, and you can't even get that right?"

They are in the courtyard, preparing to ride out on a hunt. King Olaf, King Ban and his son Bruin are already mounted with their retainers, and waiting impatiently for Arthur to join them. George is holding Arthur's horse. Merlin is bone tired, and can barely remember the walk from Arthur's chambers to the courtyard, let alone when and where he left the gloves.

He keeps his eyes on Arthur's crossed arms, can't seem to look up. "I ... I just ..."

Arthur leans forward, trying to catch his gaze. "You just ... What? You didn't think it was important? You figured George would have brought an extra pair anyway?"

A subtle cough from George is all Merlin needs to hear to know that he has.

"I was on my way to get them," Merlin says, the green-eyed monster coiling through him.

"Spare me," Arthur says, shaking his head and turning to take the reins from George and mount his horse. Once in the saddle, he turns to Merlin one last time. "I knew you were incompetent, Merlin, but you've really outdone yourself this morning. You can take the rest of the day off. I'm sure I won't notice the difference."

That is so unfair. It's so unfair that Merlin sees red. "You could have brought your damn gloves yourself, you lazy ass!"

He knows he has gone too far immediately, and his stomach clenches, head spinning with regret.

Arthur is completely stone-faced, but his arm shoots out, a damning finger pointing towards the town square. "Stocks, Merlin. Now."

Merlin is shocked. He hasn't been to the stocks for ages. Not because he hasn't given Arthur reasons to send him there, but because Arthur has seemed to prefer to make his reprimands in private. Merlin had taken it as a sign of increased respect, had thought it meant that Arthur understood how Merlin feels; that the public punishment is no longer something to be laughed off, but a painful exposure of Merlin's incompetence. He was born to serve Arthur, and every spell in the stocks is a loud proclamation of his failure to do so.

The mounted Kings and their servants are watching, people gathered to see the party off are watching, and Merlin feels the indignity of it from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes.

Arthur's eyebrows climb up on his forehead at Merlin's hesitation. "Are you deaf, you half-witted-"

Merlin runs before Arthur can finish the sentence. He hears laughter behind him, and feels tears pricking in his eyes. He wishes fiercely that he could show them all what he can really do, tell them of all the things he has already done. Then Arthur would have to eat his words. Now George is riding out with Arthur instead of Merlin, while Merlin is facing a day of not dodging vegetables, and being laughed at behind his back.

He had forgotten how uncomfortable the stocks are; how the shackles irritate the sensitive skin of his wrists, and how quickly his back and legs begin to ache as he stands there, minute after crawling minute.

There are children with vegetables, and knights who wonder amusedly what Merlin has done to upset the King this time, and all the time Merlin thinks of George riding behind Arthur in Merlin's place. George probably never scares away the game, or fumbles with the crossbow, or stumbles over his own feet. No doubt they will all have a perfect day out and come back satisfied and singing.

The green-eyed monster grows and grows.

The sun begins to sink, and still Merlin has not been released. There came a guard by only a few minutes after Merlin was locked in, and he had passed on a message from Arthur to the stockmaster, but Merlin had not been able to hear it, and the stockmaster has gone off somewhere, so Merlin can't ask him about it.

He is almost beginning to contemplate using magic to let himself out when a voice startles him.

"I suppose even you can't get this wrong, Merlin."

Merlin jerks in his bonds, a sound of distress escaping him before he can rein it in, but then Arthur's hand is warm on his neck, soothing him.

"Calm down. I'm here to set you free. I'm sorry it took so long."

There is a jingle of keys, and then the stocks are lifted off him, and Merlin stands up with a bitten-off groan, the ache in his limbs growing sharp as he moves. He keeps his eyes lowered: can't bear to look at Arthur at all. Arthur takes Merlin's chained wrists and unlocks the shackles. His hand lingers on the second wrist, thumb smoothing over the band of red, sore skin, but Merlin pulls away quickly and tugs his sleeves down.

Arthur sighs. "Come along, then."

Merlin startles and looks up despite himself. "To where?"

Arthur looks handsome; red-cheeked from a day of wind and sun, strong in his own authority. He smiles a crooked, teasing smile at Merlin. "Let's keep it simple for now, shall we? All you have to do is follow me until I stop."

Merlin's face heats up with shame, and he ducks his head again.

Arthur steers them towards the castle. Merlin shuffles after him up the steps and through the corridors. He realises quickly that they are going towards the royal chambers, and he hopes fervently that George will not be there.

He wants to run ahead and hold the door open for Arthur, but he can't bear to draw attention to himself, would rather melt away into the shadows and disappear, and so he knots his fingers together and drags his feet over the doorstep after Arthur has opened the door himself.

The room is empty, but it is clear that George has been here. Candles have been lit though it is barely twilight, and the bed has been turned down. There is a large plate of food on the table, and a tub of steaming hot water by the hearth, strewn with flower petals. The food smells amazing, and Merlin stomach rumbles loudly, reminding him that it is several hours since he last ate.

Arthur does not seem to be in any hurry, discarding his jacket and undoing his belt without asking for Merlin's help. Merlin just wants to get out of here, so after a bit of moving from foot to foot, he finally asks. "Did you need me for anything, Sire?"

"Yes, Merlin. Don't worry; Gaius knows not to expect you."

That confuses Merlin. He looks at Arthur, trying to interpret his words, but Arthur seems calm and somehow self-satisfied, and is keeping his cards close to his chest, not even looking at Merlin as he unbuckles his boots and puts them aside.

"Then ... Then how may I serve you, Sire?"

Finally, Arthur looks at him, and his expression is surprisingly warm.

"Come here," he says.

Merlin crosses the room to stand awkwardly next to Arthur, who rises from the bed and looks Merlin up and down. "You've got bits of cabbage everywhere." He reaches up and runs his fingertips through Merlin's hair, picking out bits of green as he goes.

Merlin stands very still with his shoulders drawn up and wonders what's going on.

"Better get in the bath before you stink up the whole room," Arthur says cheerfully and claps Merlin on the back so hard he stumbles a step.

Merlin looks at Arthur sceptically. "Oh yes, very funny. Did you actually need me for anything or didn't you get your fill of harassing helpless woodland creatures today?"

Arthur gives him a mocking, narrow-eyed look. "I did used to think of you in terms of helpless woodland creatures, but I feel like we've come pretty far in domesticating you, though you've yet to become useful for anything."

Merlin decides that Arthur is just being a jerk. Merlin has taken his punishment, and all the abuse he can handle today. Arthur can put him back in the stocks tomorrow: Merlin is leaving. He gives Arthur a pointed look and turns on his heel, but only gets two steps towards the door before Arthur grabs his arms from behind and redirects him towards the tub.

"Get in the bath," Arthur says, amusement and finality in his tone. "It was ordered for you." He gives Merlin a small push forward.

Merlin turns back and gawps at him, but Arthur only nods.

"Go on."

Merlin figures he must have heard wrong, and remains frozen long enough for Arthur to get the wrong idea.

"Oh fine." The King turns his back with a huff, thinking Merlin is being shy. "It's not like I haven't seen you naked before, or you me for that matter." He crosses his arms over his chest. "You've got to the count of twenty."

Somehow, Merlin finds himself hopping to, pulling his clothes off and trying to remember if it is April fool's day today, which would explain everything.

"Eighteen ... nineteen ..."

When Arthur turns around, Merlin is sitting in the tub. The water is hot and fragrant, and Merlin struggles to keep his eyes focused on Arthur and not let them drift shut. The aches in his body are muted by the glorious heat, and he feels very sleepy.

Arthur looks pleased with himself, that dollop-head. He goes to his desk and begins puttering around with some documents, while Merlin leans his forehead against his knees and enjoys the rare pleasure of being submerged in warm water. After a while, Arthur footsteps come closer, and wood scrapes against wood as the King nudges the stool next to the tub with his foot.

"Get on with it," Arthur says, not unkindly, before moving on to stand at the window. "I would like to go to bed some time before morning."

Merlin opens his eyes reluctantly to see Arthur reading a letter in the pale, early-evening light. On the stool is a cup with a bar of soap, and a washcloth. Merlin lathers up his hands and rubs the soap into his hair.

After a moment, Arthur lowers the letter and sighs. "Merlin," he begins. "What happened today ..." he trails off. He doesn't turn from the window, just angles his head to the side. "I am sorry for losing my temper with you."

Merlin stops in the act of rinsing out his hair, water running into his wide, astonished eyes.

"Did you just apologise?" he asks a little louder than he means to.

Arthur turns, frowning. "No."

"I distinctly heard you say you were sorry."

"Alright, but if you repeat it to anyone, I'll have your tongue pulled out."

He frowns at Merlin, who blames the water for the way his cheeks grow hot under the scrutiny. "I'm sorry I forgot your gloves," Merlin says. "It was stupid."

Arthur shakes his head. "You're run off your feet. We all are. It's the other Kings; I feel like I am under pressure to exceed expectations all the time. They are all so much older and wiser than I am."

"That's true, they are wiser." Merlin ducks his head when Arthur glares, but can't help but grin. He loves it when Arthur confides in him.

"My point," Arthur says a little sharply, "is that I wouldn't have punished you if Ban and Olaf hadn't been watching. Or at least I would have chosen a more appropriate punishment, like a good spanking."

The water is really very, very hot. Merlin sinks a little lower in the tub and hopes Arthur doesn't notice the goose bumps racing down his back.

But Arthur is turning to the window again. "George might be the best manservant in the five kingdoms, and you might be the worst, but you are still mine." He clears his throat, made uncomfortable by his blunder. "My manservant that is."

Merlin feels equal parts mortified and overjoyed. When Arthur moves to walk past him, he twists around to follow. "I am," he says quickly.

Arthur stops, looks down at Merlin, who can't seem to look away. When did Arthur's eyes become so wise, and so sad?

"I am," Merlin repeats, voice almost gone.

Arthur must be standing too close to the bath, because now he is growing hot too, cheeks staining red. He coughs again. "Really, Merlin, you are completely incompetent. I told you to wash up." He shakes his head and grabs the washcloth before repositioning the stool behind Merlin. "I suppose there's no cure for being an idiot. I'll just have to help you this time."

Merlin goes stiff as a board, unable to believe his ears.

Arthur notices, and his expression softens. "May I help?" he asks gently, taking the soap from Merlin's slack hand without looking away from his eyes.

A shudder of shocked arousal grips Merlin, and he nods quickly before turning back around to sit properly, but he's blushing to the tips of his ears now, which Arthur has to notice.

The touch of the soapy cloth on his neck brings the goose bumps back in full force, and then Arthur's other hand moulds to the other side of his neck, supporting, and Merlin is hyperaware of the five fingertips pressing against his skin. Arthur's hands are capable and confident, rubbing Merlin's neck and ears while Merlin clenches his teeth so as not to moan. He has never been so turned on in his life, can't stop himself from going hard even if he wanted to.

He focuses so intently on staying silent that he forgets he needs air, until Arthur pulls him back against the edge of the tub and says "Breathe, Merlin," admonishingly, and Merlin does, but then Arthur slides his hands down Merlin's chest unexpectedly, and the touch zings across Merlin's tortured nerves and makes him buck his hips up and moan shockingly loudly.

Oh god, now Arthur has seen, must have seen that Merlin is hard. He is ready to die of embarrassment right then and there, and might have, if Arthur had not taken it for encouragement; he rubs the rough washcloth over Merlin's nipples, making Merlin writhe in the water, all control lost.

"Arthur! Please!" Merlin says hoarsely, begging for mercy and for more in the same breath.

Arthur lets out a quiet oath, one hand holding Merlin by the throat while he leans forward and reaches into the water, closing his hand firmly around Merlin's erect cock.

Merlin makes a wounded sound and let's his legs fall open, hips rising to meet Arthur's hand. He is on fire with arousal and embarrassment both, already on edge and heading for the most powerful orgasm he has ever experienced.

"Oh, Merlin," Arthur says, sounding awed as his soap-slick hand pumps Merlin's shaft with slow, measured strokes.

Merlin's breath hitches, he turns his face into Arthur's knee and shuts his eyes hard, knowing he's going to come within moments like a little boy.

"So good for me, Merlin," Arthur praises, nosing at Merlin's damp temple and pressing a kiss there.

Merlin turns to him blindly, seeking his mouth, and Arthur obliges, their lips sliding together chastely for a moment before Arthur pushes his tongue into Merlin's mouth and starts gently thrusting in time with his stroking hand.

Merlin loses it, owned by Arthur's hands and Arthur's mouth and those blue eyes he helped turn wise. He makes shameful pleading sounds, hips shaking with tension, until Arthur takes pity on him and pumps his cock faster. Merlin almost screams into Arthur's mouth and comes so hard it borders on painful.

He comes down, trembling like a fawn, clumsily turning over in the tub and leaning on Arthur's legs while Arthur runs the cloth luxuriously over Merlin's heaving back.

"You are incredible," Arthur says, a slight breathlessness in his voice betraying his own lingering arousal.

Merlin reaches between Arthur's legs and cups the straining bulge there, leaving a wet handprint. "Want to suck your cock, Arthur."

Arthur hiccups in surprised lust, and it makes Merlin laugh. Arthur swats his behind with the cloth.

"Strumpet."

Merlin's stomach interrupts them then, rumbling discontentedly.

Arthur lets the cloth fall into the water. "How about eating first? The food is also for you."

Merlin looks up into Arthur's kind face and feels warmed through, and not because of the water. "Thank you, Sire."

Arthur's expression grows uncertain. "And after ... will you ... will you stay?"

Merlin leans up and kisses Arthur's lips. "Of course. Your bed is a lot more comfortable than mine."

"Merlin!"


End file.
